


ready or not

by annella



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Dick Pics, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annella/pseuds/annella
Summary: Rufus asks Tseng to send him something entertaining.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 7
Kudos: 86





	ready or not

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back on my bullshit. This is exactly what it says on the tin.

Please send me something entertaining.

Boring meeting?

I am  _ this close _ to casting Silence on Heidegger.

Oh please, don’t let me stop you.

Tseng.

Give me a minute.

Rufus had always thought that once he was President, he’d no longer have to suffer through interminable meetings. Unfortunately, the opposite was true, and he was currently listening to Heidegger drone on about some grave threat to public security. It was absolutely a meeting which could have been done via email instead, but Heidegger loved the sound of his own voice.

Out of all the directors and their assistants, the only person who appeared to actually be listening was Reeve, and even he had a look of polite indifference on his face. He was probably mentally constructing another robot behind that glassy gaze. Scarlet was fixing her makeup, Palmer was asleep, and Hojo was working industriously away on a tablet, clearly paying absolutely no attention.

Rufus glanced at his phone again, waiting for Tseng to get back to him. It was late at night, and he knew Tseng had been home for several hours now, having a rare evening off work. He was probably curled up on the small couch in his living room, sipping a cup of tea and reading one of his hundreds of books. 

He could clearly picture it: Tseng, bare feet up on an ottoman, his hair hanging loose down his back, wearing his comfortable cotton pajamas, his reading glasses sitting on the tip of his nose as he lost himself in a history book. His home was a mishmash of styles, based more on what Tseng liked the look of than any particular aesthetic. Rufus liked straight, bold lines, creamy white linen contrasting with black and white walls and floors, and a minimalistic style. Tseng’s home was lined with bookshelves, all haphazardly stuffed and double stacked with everything from dusty old treatises to the latest pulp thriller. 

_ Tseng. _

I said, give me a minute.

It’s been TEN.

Rufus glared at his phone. Tseng wasn’t even typing a reply; perhaps he was too distracted by his book. But Rufus had been hoping for at least a selfie of Tseng looking soft and tired. He wasn’t going to get out of his meeting for another hour, and it was too late to visit his lover. They didn’t spend too many nights apart, usually choosing to spend their time in Rufus’ apartments, but Rufus knew Tseng sometimes missed his more homely abode down in Sector 8.

He sighed loudly, and Heidegger glanced at him. “Get on with it,” Rufus growled, and Heidegger’s eyes tightened in fury. He still hadn’t—never would, probably—got used to Rufus being in charge of him, and there was a barely concealed rage simmering not far beneath the surface. 

Rufus smiled, a deadly grin that didn’t reach his eyes. Heidegger held his gaze for a moment before clearing his throat and going back to his report.

Finally,  _ finally,  _ Rufus’ phone screen flashed up with a message from Tseng. An image was attached, and Rufus was already smiling when he opened it.

He almost dropped his phone.

“Sir?” Heidegger said. “Is there a problem?” All eyes in the room were fixed on Rufus, who had inadvertently let out a choked snort.

“No problem at all,” Rufus snapped, waving his hand at him. “Continue.” He glanced at his phone again, trying desperately not to let any emotion show on his face as his gaze roamed over the photo Tseng had sent through.

He’d jokingly asked Tseng to send him nudes in the past; Tseng had chuckled and changed the subject. Not that Rufus needed naked pictures of Tseng; he could see him like that whenever he chose. 

Tseng had been holding out on him. This wasn’t just a dick pic; this was  _ art. _ The softly-lit photo was taken from above Tseng’s head, giving Rufus a view down the length of his body. Tseng had a faint smile on his face, almost sly, but Rufus cared more about the rest of the photo. His lover was naked aside from an unbuttoned black shirt—one of Rufus’, he realised—and gloves. He was lying on tangled white sheets, his hips cocked, one knee bent, and his hand was wrapped around his dick. 

Rufus struggled to maintain his composure. Tseng was hard, straining, the flush of his cock vivid against the black leather of his glove, and Rufus wanted nothing more than to be there with him right now.

Fuck.

Mmm.

Have you come yet?

No. Close.

Give me two minutes.

I’ll do my best.

“Heidegger,” Rufus drawled, interrupting the Director’s tirade, “you’ve been over this a dozen times already, and I think I speak for all of us when I say I’m tired of the sound of your voice.”

“Sir—” Heidegger protested, his face flush with anger, but Rufus held up a hand, silencing him.

“Enough. Send through the rest in an email. No more than five hundred words, and I don’t need to know your personal opinions on everything this time.” He stood up, placing his hands on the table. “You’re all dismissed.”

  
  
Moments later, Rufus was in an elevator heading up to his apartment, trying not to pace. He pulled his phone out and saw that Tseng had sent another photo. Thanking every god in existence that he was alone in the elevator, he opened it up and let out a choked groan at the sight of Tseng, back arching, legs akimbo, his hand tight around his cock as beads of precome welled out of the head, the slick trails easily visible on his glove.

Hurry up or you’ll miss out.

Rufus’ hands were shaking as he frantically waved his keycard in front of the door, rushing into his apartment and slamming the door behind him. He flung his clothes off indiscriminately, tossing his coat on the floor of the hallway and shedding layers as he made his way to the bedroom. Finally he was naked, alone, stretched out on his bed with his phone in his hand.

Tseng answered his call immediately. “Finally,” he breathed, following it up with a throaty moan. 

"Tell me what you're thinking about," Rufus growled, putting the phone on speaker next to him and sliding a hand down his torso towards his cock. 

Tseng sighed, the sound echoing through the room. "Thinking… about fucking you," he said breathlessly.

"Yeah? How do you want me?" Rufus asked, biting his lip as he brushed his hand against the head of his erection, thick and hard against his stomach. 

"On your back. Legs—legs over my shoulders." Tseng was panting with every breath, soft moans escaping him, and Rufus wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking himself firmly. "Gods, Rufus—I want you so badly."

"Wait, let me—” Rufus reached over to open his bedside drawer, fumbling through the various toys he kept within to find his glass cock. It was a work of art, finely sculpted and the perfect size, and he quickly slicked it up and positioned it at his entrance. “Alright.”

Tseng’s breathing was laboured. “Are you—are you using that glass cock?”

“Mmm.” Rufus bit his lip as he slowly slid it inside, his back arching and his toes curling into the sheets. He hadn’t prepped himself, hadn’t had time to stretch himself open in readiness, and the slide of the cool glass into him was almost painful.

“Slowly.” Tseng’s voice grated in his ear, and Rufus breathed sharply through his nose, whimpering quietly as he gently, carefully pushed the toy into him. 

“Ah, fuck,” Rufus cursed as he pulled it out an inch and pushed it back in, fucking himself with it as a wave of arousal rushed through his body. It wasn’t the same as Tseng, nowhere near, but in lieu of his presence, it would suffice. It helped to have Tseng’s low voice growling in his ear, and Rufus took hold of his cock with his other hand, sliding it up and down the shaft.

“I wish I was there,” Tseng said, his voice hitching. He was close; Rufus could tell by the noises he was making. “Wish I was fucking you right now.”

Rufus laughed softly, the sound tapering off to a groan when he managed to angle the dildo inside him to press against his prostate. “I’ll send a chopper,” he said, only half joking, and Tseng laughed, the sound a little desperate. 

“How does it feel inside you?” he asked. “Tell me.”

“Big,” Rufus gasped, drawing it out and shoving it back in again, harder this time, his hand tight on his cock, precome slicking the head and dripping onto his stomach. “Hard. Feels so good, Tseng.”

“Go harder. Faster. I want to hear you come on your toy cock and pretend I’m the one fucking you.”

“You must be close,” Rufus forced out as he sped up. He could feel his orgasm rushing towards him like a freight train, but he wanted to come at the same time as Tseng, wanted to hear his low, throaty moans in his ear.

“So close,” Tseng murmured. “I’m going to come all over your shirt.”

“Oh, fuck  _ you.”  _ Warmth was building uncontrollably fast in his gut, spreading through his body, making his head spin with lust. “Tseng, I’m—I’m gonna come,  _ fuck.” _

“Rufus!” Tseng let out a loud groan, the sound stuttering in Rufus’ ears. He couldn’t hold back any longer, and he shoved the dildo in hard, almost painfully, as he frantically stroked his cock. The sounds Tseng was making drove him to the edge and over it, and warm come splattered his chest and all the way up to his chin as he cried out Tseng’s name.

The sounds of their shared breathing filled the room, both of them whimpering quietly as they came down from the high. Rufus grunted as he carefully pulled the glass cock out of him, tossing it aside and letting his legs fall down to the bed.

He picked up his phone just in time to see a photo come through from Tseng. 

“Goddamn,” he breathed, and he heard Tseng laugh softly on the other end of the line. The photo was the same angle as the ones before it, except this time his gloved hand was only loosely holding his cock. Streaks of come decorated the black leather, as well as the long planes of Tseng’s torso, with a not insignificant amount clearly visible on the black fabric of Rufus’ shirt. “I’m not even mad about the shirt,” he added.

“I’m waiting,” Tseng said in a low voice, and Rufus grinned, holding his phone up to take a photo of himself, dragging his fingers through the slick fluid spattered across his torso and giving a sly wink to the camera. He sent it off and heard Tseng’s sharp intake of breath when it arrived at the other end.

“So tell me,” Rufus said, reaching over to grab tissues from the bedside table and clean himself up, “were you in the middle of that when I texted you? Or did you set it up just for me?”

Tseng cleared his throat. “I, uh. I was in the middle of it. I stopped to put on my gloves and your shirt. I thought you might appreciate that.”

“Very much,” Rufus purred. “We must do this again sometime. Now that I know you have a talent for photos like this.”

Tseng coughed, and Rufus could easily imagine the flush on his cheeks. He looked so pretty when he blushed, and it happened rarely enough that Rufus delighted in those moments.

“Were you serious about the helicopter?” Tseng asked, adroitly changing the subject. “I only ask because it’s getting late, and I have an early start tomorrow.”

“Of course I was serious. Get dressed. I’ll send it immediately.”

  
  
Half an hour later, curled up in bed with Tseng in his arms, Rufus couldn’t keep a smile off his face. 

“Something funny?” Tseng asked, kissing his jaw and up to his earlobe.

“Just remembering the look on Heidegger’s face when I called him and told him to send someone to pick you up for urgent business.”

Tseng snorted. “He’s going to try to kill you one day, you know.” He slid his hand down Rufus’ back and cupped his ass, pulling him close. Rufus wasn’t sure he had a second orgasm in him yet, but it was extremely nice to have Tseng’s naked body pressed right up against him, their hips slotted together.

“Good thing I have you as my bodyguard,” he replied, and he could almost hear Tseng’s eyes rolling as he chuckled softly, pulling him up for a kiss.


End file.
